


Find Myself Feelin' Alone

by North_Girl_3



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, How Do I Tag, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:20:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27950669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/North_Girl_3/pseuds/North_Girl_3
Summary: “Tommy?” Tubbo sounded nearly as broken as himself, “Tommy please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”And Tommy sobbed. His knees gave out and he sobbed and he screamed and he felt because god had he been longing to hear his best friend again. To be forgiven. To feel that acceptance and love that had faded out in the weeks leading up to his exile.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 312





	Find Myself Feelin' Alone

**Author's Note:**

> [Chapter title from 'Gloria' by The Lumineers]

Orange.  
The setting sun painted the horizon a blazing orange. A beautiful scene splayed outt just for the young boy. Special for him.  
The bench he sat upon creaked as he lent forward. It was shabby, a rushed build, thrown together after Dream and Sapnap took their days leave to quickly catch the last moments of the day. He'd have sat directly in the grass, but the sight had him reeling into memories and he wanted to recreate his and Tubbo’s bench. To feel some semblance of peace. Some familiarity in this new lonely land.  
However the feelings it brought weren’t as positive as he’d wished. They reminded him of the happiness he and his best friend had once shared. The bond that could withstand anything. It'd survived through wars. Even when they wound up on opposite sides. In the end, with some bitter sense of irony the nation they’d fought so strongly to build, to protect, to reclaim, tore them apart. It tore everything apart. He had nothing anymore... nothing to fight for. Nothing to live for. He'd prioritized the disks and it’d ruined everything. Even if he chose to fight for them... for his disks... they’d always be haunted by what he lost for them.  
A shaky pale had rose to his chest, weak fingers bunched into his shirt as he clutched at his aching heart. One elbow dug painfully into his thigh. Hot thick tears spilled down his cheeks to plummet into the green grass on that bench overlooking the ocean.  
A heart wrenching sob tore from his throat as he doubled over, his grip on his shirt tightened, his free hand wound into messy blonde locks as his forehead fell onto his knees. His shoulders shook with each sob that tumbled out, tears poured to match the pitiful sounds and wet the grass beneath his feet.  
A soft rush of air whished past as something fell beside him. The breath caught in his throat as his head shot up, momentary hope swelled in his gut as he looked to the right, 

“Tub-” the feeling was crushed as quickly as it’d grown. 

“Blue?” 

The ghost chimed in that soft strained innocent voice. The smile that dawned his pale face made something inside Tommy break all over again. He responded with a small nod, dawning his own weak wobbling smile as he bit down another sob. His hand untangled from his hair and trembled as it reached out to receive his brother’s gift.  
Ghostbur beamed as he dropped it into Tommy’s outstretched grasp. The boy stared at it, most of the dark rich blue powder slipped through his fingers and painted the wet grass beneath in its beautiful colour. Ocean blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he watched it fall. His elder brother let out a small hum as he watched the colours blend, 

“Thats very pretty.” 

Tommy startled and looked towards the ghost, he was pouring another little pouch over the grass and admiring the way it stained. The boys chest ached anew at the innocence displayed on his brothers face. The blissfulness that came with ignorance. Tommy longed to feel that. To not be burdened by the past. Turning back towards the sky the tears came again. 

“Wilbur?” 

The ghost perked up and looked away from his masterpiece. 

“The Christmas Tree... was it really beautiful?” it’d been a few days but he still... he found it hard to imagine. 

His brother hummed an affirmative with a big proud nod tacked on. Hi hair, as fluffy as ever even in death, bounced along. Tommy couldn’t help but be happy that stayed the same, even if everything else had changed. It was one of the few good remnants of the past. 

“Do you think...” he chewed on his lip as another tear rolled down his cheek and he swallowed the words before they could pass his lips. 

The question wouldn’t be worth it. 

“What's it like... to be dead?” 

His brother tilted his head and Tommy thought he looked like a puppy for a second, “I’m not sure...” his pale translucent form shimmered under the fading sunlight, “what’s it like to be alive?” 

Tommy stared at the sun fading away over the ocean, the dull response of ‘hell’ drowned out by the urge to protect the ghost's sweet outlook on things. 

“I think I'd make a good ghost.” the ghost straightened up beside him. 

Fear? Worry? Realization? Tommy couldn’t tell. But his dead brother was grasping for another pouch of blue to dump it over the young boys hands. 

“Blue.” 

Tommy gave a weak sniffle and dropped the powder to the ground to wipe his nose. The deep blue smeared over his face and Ghostbur smiled. He liked blue Tommy. 

“We could-” the breath caught in his throat, “we could be together forever.” 

“I don’t-” the cracking of the ghosts voice echoed through the air and Tommy realized how much pain he was still causing, “I don’t want you to be a ghost. Ghosts are dead I like you alive.” 

“I miss L’manberg Wil.” 

“L’Manberg is still there! You’ll be able to go back one day I'm sure!” the sweet smile on the ghosts face was painful. 

"Do you think... could you get me some more of those polar-oids?” 

Ghostbur lit up like the L’Manberg Christmas tree as the suggestion and with a big nod he jumped off the bench and hurried off towards the portal.  
Tommy dragged in a shaky breath and slid the disk from BadBoyHalo out of his bag. The black vinyl felt smooth and right and familiar against his palms as he dropped it into the jukebox. The notes wafted through the air and blent with the wind to create a peaceful aura that enveloped the area. The young boy dropped his head into his hands and stared out at the ocean. The sky had turned to a purply pink, the orange fading into a mere memory, far to similar to the imagery of lava. The promise of an afterlife without the bad. An optimistic ghost with his brother forever. 

“It’s not your time to die.” 

Dreams words rang through his ears and he wondered... he wondered why. If the man had exiled him. Taken his life and vowed to put him down if he stepped even an inch into his home... why did he care to stop him.  
Because the green bastard wanted that victory? Wanted to take a swing and finally fell TommyInnit. The boy with a wish to own something good, to live free and happy with his best friend and his music disks. It was innocent enough. He wanted a home. A life. A family. A family bigger than two brothers who’d damned them. Tommy wondered briefly if Techno knew that standing against L’Manberg and the government would bring his younger brother to this point. To solitude and nothingness so strong he’d not shy away from death.  
The words ‘Where are you’ from popped up on the small communicator fastened to his forearm. The green guy probably realized he’d been left unsupervised. Tommy tore it off and tossed it into the grass. When everyone was around earlier they’d said L’Manberg was better without him there... he stood up then, bare feet dragging lazily through the grass as he headed for the ender chest in his tent. He'd leave the disks to Tubbo. To make amends for ever choosing them over the older boy.  
With careful hands he pulled the disks out of the ender chest and set them on the rarely used bed tucked into the corner of the tent. He pulled a sign from his bag and dropped it onto the ground before writing out a quick ‘For Tubbo’. Hopefully they’d know it referred to the disks and not the bed. Knowing those idiots they’d probably give the young president the bed.  
He swallowed the lump in his throat and walked back to the messily built bench. The song had ended sometime while he was bidding the disks goodbye. He popped the disk back in to restart it. Just one last listen... there was a melancholy behind the notes this time around. His chest ached and the back of his throat burned with the threat of new sobs. But TommyInnit wouldn’t die crying. Is what he told himself. The few tears that pooled in his eyes to soon spill down his cheeks couldn’t be fought and the boy felt pathetic for that alone.  
The communicator buzzed from its spot discarded on the ground as someone connected to the channel, 

“Tommy.” Dream’s voice crackled through the speakers. 

Tommy's heart thundered in his chest like a child caught misbehaving. He could hear the distant sounds of Ghostbur making an inquiry about who the green man was talking to. They were probably heading back. Tommy leant over to pick the device back up as the music hummed in his hears. His fingers fiddled with the buttons until his mic was on, 

“Yes Dream?” he tried to uphold the typical cocky bratty Tommy voice, but his words cracked despite. 

“It’s not your time.” 

How did the bastard always know? Tommy clicked his tongue to dispute before giving a small, 

“I think it is.” 

“Tommy.” Dreams voice was hard. Stern. Threatening. “We can talk about you going to L’Manberg for Christman.” 

Tommy wiped his still blue stained hands over his torn white shirt in thought, he’d never expected Dream to give in. The man really did want to destroy him. If Tommy survived on Dream would have more chance. He'd take the of the disks back, slowly but surely. And then, finally when the boy had absolutely nothing, he’d strike him down. Tommy wanted to turn back the clock then. He'd always wanted to but this time... go back to when Wilbur was alive. When Techno was a friend. When his family was whole. Before he destroyed it. His choices influenced it all. He aided every path they went down. 

“It’s like you said Dream.” he could hear Ghostbur say something about blue and he was glad he’d sent the ghost off, ‘L’Manberg is better without me.” 

“Tommy-” 

“Would you just shut UP you fUCKIng green pRICK!” Tommy could feel the frustration as it burned into anguish, “you’ve taken EVERYTHING from me!” the tears fell faster, “you can’t take this.” 

There was silence on the other end and the pain faded to numbness. And Tommy felt nothing. And he wasn’t sure if it was better or worse.  
The communicator beeped as someone else connected, and just by the shaky breath that rang through Tommy knew who it was. 

“Tommy?” Tubbo sounded nearly as broken as himself, “Tommy please. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.” 

And Tommy sobbed. His knees gave out and he sobbed and he screamed and he felt because god had he been longing to hear his best friend again. To be forgiven. To feel that acceptance and love that had faded out in the weeks leading up to his exile. 

“Tommy we’re coming please wait?” there was a painful uncertainty in Tubbo’s voice as he begged, almost like he had no right but was anyways because what else could he do? “Please wait for me Tommy I'm sorry I should have fought for you.” 

And Tommy only cried harder because his friend was blaming himself, tearing himself apart when none of it was his fault. But Tommy couldn’t stop him because he just couldn’t stop crying. He couldn’t stop the tears or the endless sobs that tore his throat and made his vocal chords raw.  
The portal whooshed and warped in the distance and Tommy knew he’d missed his chance, but the screaming of his name from that voice he’d missed so much made it better. Because his best friend had forgiven his ignorance and he’d come back. The shorter boy stumbled up the small incline and crashed his body into Tommy’s collapsed form to enclose him in a tight hug. Dream and Ghostbur hung back and stared. Observed. Ghostbur fiddled with the small pictures in his hand. Dream adjusted his forever smiling mask.  
And it was okay. It was okay because they’d gotten there in time.  
Tommy latched his blue hands onto Tubbo’s green shirt and refused to let go in case the other boy disappeared like a torturous mirage. 

“I’m sorry Tubbo-” 

The last rays of sunlight vanished over the horizon.

**Author's Note:**

> hah, this is my first time writing for DreamSMP, and its a small bit of a vent fic, so yes sorry they're all quite OOC.


End file.
